Foreign Shores
by Scottsman95
Summary: The Shinigam: Soldiers of the afterlife, stewards of the dead. In Japan. Funnily enough, 13 squads is less than what you need to take care of the world. There are different afterlives for different parts of the world. So how about we take a look at one? Takes place shortly after the end of the Deicide Arc, splitting from cannon at that point.


Captain Tudor sifted through the paperwork on his desk, his lieutenant sitting at attention. He had a sharp face, graced with light stubble, and everything about the captain screamed 'IMPORTANT'. "Report, Lieutenant Koler."

As a captain of the American Court of Souls, his uniform was different from those in Japan, instead taking the form of a black tunic with white trim, his white captain's cape with the number 5 on it in roman numerals. Much of their aesthetic came from Europe, since America didn't actually have a Court of Souls until colonization began.

Felix Koler shifted nervously in his seat. He still wasn't sure how he had managed to reach his current position, but he wasn't one to complain about such things. He was a thin man, but had a truly impressive agility, and his small frame made him harder to hit in a fight. Still, the captain had a certain presence about him that could make lesser men wither. "Well, sir, we have 5 more Arrancar sightings. However, after comparing the reports, I think they're all the same person. Still, even if it's just one, they're uncomfortably close to the Soul Court. I recommend we send a team to investigate the area immediately."

Gabriel Tudor stood from his desk. "Yes, yes, that does sound smart. I'll let you handle the organization; I trust you won't disappoint me. Dismissed."

Felix hurried out of the room, and was quickly replaced by a man in captain's attire. He was lean and muscular, but with the kind of face you would see on a diplomat, not a military leader. "My my, Gabriel, I think you scared the boy."

Gabriel grabbed a bottle from the shelf and poured himself some wine. "I'm told I have that effect on people. Did you have a reason for coming here, Jean, or do you just like hearing yourself talk?"

Jean threw up his hands in mock indignation. "Why Gabriel, you wound me! Why the hostility to your loyal colleague?"

Gabriel gestured to the paperwork on his desk. "That's why! Mountains upon mountains of paperwork! It's maddening! And these Arrancar! With Aizan locked away, you'd think they'd go away! Find themselves a deep dark corner to hide in, and never show their ugly mugs again! But they seem to be coming out of the woodwork! Why are they even here! This all went down in Japan, not the Pacific Northwest!"

"Hueco Mundo is a big place. The individual Soul Societies might stick to their countries, but Hollows are nowhere near as polite as us Soul Reapers." Jean chuckled to himself. "Speaking of some Arrancars, I have some interesting news."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Does it have something to do with that Arrancar spotted so close?"

"You aren't nearly lucky enough for that to be the case. No, this is far more interesting." The mirth seemed to vanish from Jean's face. "Five minutes ago, an Arrancar approached the south gate in broad daylight. He said he wants to ally with the Soul Reapers."

Gabriel nearly choked on his drink. "He jumped ship? For real?"

"Welcome to America, the great melting pot. Come on, there's a captains meeting starting up to evaluate the situation."

The captains had assembled in the meeting hall. Much of the organization was drawn from the Japanese Soul Society, as they were the first to truly get their act together with regards to afterlife management. It was because of this that 12 captains stood across from each other in the meeting hall, the 13th sitting at the head of the group. At the center of this meeting was the first Arrancar to ever make it this far into the Soul Court, chained in place.

The Head Captain, Alexander Turnbull, addressed the gathering. Anyone who looked at him would be reminded of King Arthur, but a good hundred years older. Of course, Head Captain Turnbull was significantly older than this. "We call together this captains meeting to discuss the fate of one Avarran Glist, the Arrancar who sits before us."

"Can you people get on with it already? These shackles kind of chafe." Avarran was an interesting sight. His mask fragment began just above his brow, sweeping backwards and ending in four points. His red hair was smoothly swept back, and whenever he opened his mouth, you could see the hint of fangs.

"What's even the point of this?" The captain of squad 7, Walter Greendale, shouted. He was a sharp man, both in shape and personality, with a harsh angular figure. "He's a Hollow. We should kill him right now!"

"Well well." a booming voice came forth from the squad 11 captain, Bjorn StormBreaker, who made his Viking heritage abundantly clear in his build and beard, not to mention the helmet. "I never thought I'd be voting to not kill a Hollow. If he wants to fight for us, I say let him. Hell, my squad will take him. There's always a place for a strong arm."

Walter scoffed. "I always figured the entry requirement was a thick head."

"Boys, boys, can you please wait until this meeting is over before you begin your daily pissing contest?" The captain of the 8th division, Riana Swan, may have been small, but everyone knew that she would destroy them if they got in her way. "Now then, I personally support signing the Arrancar up with the 11th. Most of their work is combat oriented, not to mention that if he turns rogue, just about anyone in the 11th could grind him into a fine paste."

"But why take him in the first place? He's a hollow." Jean Hastings, head of the 13th division, piped in.

Riana gave him a glare that could melt steel. "Think, genius. Sure, Aizen himself is gone, but the fallout from that whole mess is going to be enormous. Hueco Mundo has always been chaotic, but now there's a power vacuum. We're about to have a real mess on our hands, and we need every advantage we can get."

"Well, good to know there's some people in favor of letting me keep my head. Maybe coming here _wasn't_ the stupidest thing I've ever done." Avarran chuckled dryly to himself.

The Head Captain shifted in his chair. "Does anyone wish to voice further arguments?" No one spoke up. "In that case, I will make my ruling. Avarran Glist, you are hereby assigned to Squad 11, who have standing orders to put you down in the event of any treachery. You will remain under constant surveillance until such time as we have means to ensure your compliance. If there are no further pressing issues, you are dismissed." Most of the captains left immediately, though Gabriel, Bjorn, and Riana remained.

Bjorn ambled over and undid the locks on Avarran's chains. He grinned menacingly. "I dare you to fight us."

Avarran rubbed a sore spot on his neck. "Yeah, no. I like my head right where it is. Man, those chains were a real pain." He looked over at Riana. "Course," he said as he winked at her, "wouldn't mind having her chain me up."

Before anyone knew what happened, Riana had her sword at his throat. "If you really do like where your head is right now, I'd keep those comments to yourself." She sheathed her blade and walked off.

Avarran wiped some blood from his nose. "I like her. She's got spunk."

Bjorn gave him a hearty slap on the soldier. "Trust me, kid. You'll want to kick the habit of drooling over her fast. C'mon, let's go."


End file.
